


Damn Those Sweatpants

by AgentBuzzkill



Series: Fic Requests [12]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Dorks in Love, M/M, Morons arguing like an old married couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 22:13:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3092822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentBuzzkill/pseuds/AgentBuzzkill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you asked anyone in Blood Gulch who argued the most, they would ponder the question for a moment and tell you it would probably be Grif and Simmons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Damn Those Sweatpants

**Author's Note:**

> From an anonymous request: Grimmons- Simmons and Grif arguing and all of a sudden, "Grif, why do you have a BONER?!"
> 
> I had a lot of fun with this one.

If you asked anyone in Blood Gulch who argued the most, they would ponder the question for a moment and tell you it would probably be Grif and Simmons. Caboose would be quick to add that Tucker and Church like to yell at each other too. Tucker would tell Caboose to fuck off before complaining that Grif and Simmons should just bone already, they’re pretty much married anyway. Donut would say that he saw Simmons taking the walk of shame from Grif’s room the other night.

Regardless of their possible marital status, the two really loved to argue.

"I can’t fucking believe you!" Simmons exclaimed, storming into the tiny Red Base kitchen. Grif looked up from his bowl of cereal, unimpressed.

"What’d I do now?" he asked through a mouthful of sugary marshmallows and milk.

Instead of answering, Simmons just held up an empty package of Oreos. The plastic crinkled in his tight grasp as he stood across the table from Grif, fuming.

Grif merely raised an eyebrow and resumed chewing, hoping his apathy would be enough to make Simmons go away until he had time to finish his coffee. Trying to deal with Simmons without caffeine to get him through the interaction was nearly impossible. The silence only seemed to make Simmons angrier, and he walked around the table quickly, stopping next to Grif’s chair and setting the empty cookie package down next to his bowl with an angry thud.

"There are crumbs in the bed now, jackass," Simmons spat, crossing his arms in front of his chest. 

Grif swallowed his mouthful of cereal, looking up at Simmons and sighing. 

"You’re the one who sleeps in  _my_  room, in  _my_ bed.”

Simmons bristled. “Only because you won’t fit in my bed!”

It was Grif’s turn to be offended. “Well excuse me, we can’t all be as skinny as Twizzlers.”

"Even your fucking analogies have to do with food!"

"You liked my food analogies when I managed to get some of that chocolate sauce-"

"That makes no sense, and we are  _not_ talking about that right now!”

"Why not?" Grif smiled slyly, enjoying the easy task of getting Simmons flustered. "You really seemed to like it when I licked it off your-"

"We are  _not_ talking about this in the middle of the kitchen!” Simmons’ face was about as red as his hair, and Grif laughed as he scooted his chair away from the table to lean back and put his feet up.

"Either way, if you don’t like my bed you can always sleep in your own. Would make cuddling hard, though."

Simmons rolled his eyes. “That’s not the point, Grif.”

"Then what is?"

"There’s crumbs in your goddamn bed! And crumbs mean spiders."

"Oh no, is little Dicky Simmons-"

"I told you not to call me-"

"-afraid of some little spiders?"

"They are not little, Grif! The last time we got them they were big as coffee cups, and I don’t think you want to deal with…" Grif let Simmons’ voice drift to the back of his mind as his eyes scanned down the other soldier’s slender frame. Simmons’ fists were clenched tight, white-knuckled, and the short sleeves of his t-shirt let Grif see the muscle hiding within his skinny frame. He smiled a bit as his gaze trailed down, glad that he’d recently reminded himself of that night with the chocolate sauce. Thank god for Donut and his whims to throw theme parties, an impromptu ice cream social had granted Grif enough stolen sauce and sprinkles for a few awesome nights. He lost himself in the memory of the night before he realized Simmons was yelling again. Blinking, he looked back up to see most of the anger gone from Simmons’ face, now replaced with confusion.

"Grif," he asked, voice cracking with the impossibly high octaves it seemed to be reaching, "why do you have a  _boner_?!”

Grif glanced down to his lap where, lo and behold, his sweatpants made it very clear that he did indeed have a boner. He looked from his lap to Simmons a few times, waiting for Simmons to say something else, but he seemed to really want Grif to answer the question.

"Well," he said slowly, "maybe I have a thing for you angry and covered in chocolate."

For once it seemed like Simmons had nothing to say, he simply looked from Grif’s face to his crotch a few times before letting out a deep sigh and turning to leave the room.

"Aw come on!" Grif called to Simmons’ back. "You can’t just leave me high and dry in the middle of my breakfast!"

"Of course I can," Simmons said before leaving the room. Grif scowled, sitting his chair back down on all four legs and turning back to his cereal. 

As he chewed another spoonful, he glared at the empty package of cookies. If he wanted to get Simmons to agree to a morning quickie, he would definitely have to clean his pig sty of a bed. 

 _Well shit,_ he thought to himself.  _The things I do for love._


End file.
